


Alternate Brothers

by Barb G (troutkitty)



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-16
Updated: 1999-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-24 15:14:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troutkitty/pseuds/Barb%20G
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kronos, Methos and Richie, oh my! Set in the To Be/Not To Be Alternate Universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alternate Brothers

Methos watched the boy sleeping on the couch. His entire body would shiver as the dream passed through him, but for the most part the boy's face relaxed in sleep. "Well, brother, it seems you found a stray. Where did this one come from?" Kronos asked, coming into the room.

Methos looked up, feeling the sudden flare of annoyance. "America, originally. He has no idea what he is," Methos said. He touched the boy's hair for a second...it had been a while since Richie had washed it and his hair was greasy. That would be the first thing he would change tomorrow. For tonight he'd just let the boy sleep. He hadn't seen such a hunted-looking creature since he gave up running deer with his dogs.

"He's not your type, brother. But then, you always did like the virgins," Kronos said.

Methos glanced up at Kronos, annoyed, and chose not to respond to the second half. He lowered his eyes out of warning. "He's not my type. But he'll do my grunt work," he said. He stressed the possessive, and saw Kronos react to it.

"And what kind of grunt work will that be? On his hands and knees or do you prefer him on his back?"

"Surely you don't begrudge me the perks?" Methos asked, and then went back to the boy. "First you have to tame them, and then get them to eat out of your hand."

"Ah, but when do you teach them to swallow?" Kronos asked, stepping up next to him. Methos didn't move as Kronos' hand began working over his neck, and for a moment he closed his eyes and enjoyed the caress. But it didn't come without a price and he wasn't willing to pay it.

"Soon enough." Methos stood up, pushing Kronos back with just his body. Kronos let him go.  
Methos held out the towel. The boy had no false modesty, at least, and when he stepped out of the tub his skin was pink from being scrubbed so hard. "Thanks, man. You don't know how long it's been," Richie said, taking the towel and drying his hair.

Methos sniffed delicately. "I can well imagine," he said.

Richie blushed at that, and started to reach for his oily, stained jeans. Methos' foot was there first; he scraped them behind him without lifting the foot up. "Oh, no you don't. These will be taken out and burned. I'll get you something to replace them," he said.

Richie's blush deepened. "Uh, yeah...well..." he started, and saw Methos staring at the stains on the jeans. "The bike...they're bugs, mostly," he finished.

Methos only smiled, and bent down to pick them up. "No one is going to judge you here, Richie. Relax, I'll be right back."

Richie tried to smile at him, but his cheeks were still too red to make it look natural. Methos smiled back in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, and left the bathroom for a moment. He had put out sweats and a T-shirt that would forgive the estimation of Richie's size and returned to the bath.

By then Richie had started to shiver. He passed the boy the clothing and left him alone to get dressed. He emerged from the bathroom a moment later to stand hesitantly in the middle of Methos' bedroom. "Sit down," Methos said, and motioned to the bed. It happened to be the only place to sit if the boy didn't want to perch on the cheap dresser. Kronos didn't believe in trappings, and Methos refused to think about how comfortable the apartment he had shared with Jilly had been.

Richie's eyes narrowed, and Methos reminded himself that the boy was ignorant, not naïve. It probably wasn't the first time he had been picked up by men with the same apparent intentions as Methos. He pretended to ignore the knowing look, though. "You probably have questions," he said.

The boy's eyes widened. "I...what...who..."

"I, what, who. A very good place to start," Methos began. He didn't know how much knowledge Richie had gleaned of his immortality, so he started from the beginning. Some of it made the boy nod, some of it confused him, but Richie listened to it all.

Finally the boy leaned back against the bed. "Wow," he said, finally.

Methos nodded. "Wow. Get some rest. You are going to need it," Richie lay back, and Methos left him there.

Kronos waited for him. He even stopped counting his money as he entered their work area. "Still unsatisfied, brother? Or did you manage to win him over with the glamour you spin around yourself?"

"And what glamour is that?" Methos hissed. He went behind Kronos and grabbed the man's hips. Kronos tried to pull away for a second out of surprise. It had been months since they shared each other's bodies. The balance of power between them was a delicate one, and neither wanted to risk its fragile stability. But Methos wanted somebody and he didn't care who it was.

"This Adam fellow. Never did care much for him," Kronos said, and ground against him. Methos smiled for a second and decided not to bite until after Kronos had removed his leather jacket.

"That's because the only time you saw Adam, he was getting his trusting ass shot off," Methos growled. "Strip. Now. I'm in no mood to fuck a corpse tonight."

Kronos laughed. "Just like old times, eh, my brother?" Kronos asked. He didn't seem to mind Methos being dominant. Eventually Methos would return the favour. That was the way it always had been.

Methos backed away to allow Kronos to strip off his jacket. He cleared his throat, and Kronos pulled off his shirt. For a moment he just stood braced against the table while Methos admired his back. The muscles were hot against the skin as Methos ran his hands over them. "Turn around," he ordered.

Kronos did so, but there was an amused smile on his face. Methos licked Kronos' scar. "Get up on the table," he ordered. He could feel Kronos' hot breath against his own cheek, and Kronos ground against him one last time before dropping his jeans. There was a moment of awkwardness as Kronos kicked them off, and then totally naked, he slowly moved himself back so that he sat on the table as ordered. "Do you see yourself?" Kronos asked.

Methos paused for a moment, and then stepped between Kronos' spread thighs. He didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed a wad of money and shoved it inside Kronos' mouth. Kronos took the hint. Methos grabbed Kronos' left thigh and lifted it as he pulled Kronos to him. Kronos had been cleaning his Uzi while Methos was in with the boy bathing, and the gun oil looked to be about the right texture. He dipped his finger in, and rubbed it against his thumb before smiling. Perfect. Kronos' eyes widened, but it was probably just jealousy over not thinking of it first. He didn't even spit out the wad of soggy money. Methos smiled again, and then coated his fingers with the oil.

It took a moment to work his hand into Kronos. Not all of it, of course, he didn't want to ruin his fuck by making his brother too loose, but enough so he didn't have to exert himself. Methos pulled his fingers free and enjoyed the conquest of having his brother as his toy. He didn't let himself dwell on the thought that eventually he'd have to switch roles. If it happened it happened. He enjoyed it when it happened, but for right now he was in control and wasn't willing to give it up.

Kronos grunted through the money as he started slowly screwing his way inside. He hadn't coated his cock at all, and even with the oil, the friction almost sent him over. Kronos' thigh muscles trembled under his hands, but it was the only sign the man gave that he actually enjoyed the attention. For the first couple of strokes Methos was totally selfish. He closed his eyes, imagining the hot body around his cock was anybody but Kronos, until Kronos groaned again. Methos let him move his hands to his own cock, and even went so far as to drip more oil on Kronos' hands to make it easier. The clean oil, not even the used lubricant with little bits of metal in it.

If that wasn't love, what was?

With Kronos participating and closing his muscles against him, Methos didn't know how much longer he could last. Kronos threw himself back, landing on the gun and the money, and Methos had to haul his hips forward enough so that he still had purchase on Kronos. Kronos had started after him, but ended before, and the contractions against Methos' cock were too much. Only his grip on Kronos' hips kept him from falling back as he slammed himself against the body under him one more time and then came. The orgasm hurt as it shook his body. Little death, hell. There was nothing little about it.

Kronos waited for him to back away before turning his head and spitting the wad of money on the floor. "You didn't answer my question, brother," he said.

"What was your question?" Methos demanded. The orgasm didn't help the bad mood from building. It spread through his body the same way the need to empty into Kronos did, radiating from the joints outward.

"Do you see yourself in him?" Kronos repeated, patiently. He jumped down from the table and started to pull on his clothes.

"No," Methos said, honestly. "I see you."

Kronos looked at him, but didn't say anything.   
Richie woke up, stretching taut under the blankets. Methos watched, amused, as Richie moved his hands down his belly under the blanket, lazily cupping himself. Methos half smiled as the boy spread his legs and abruptly realized he wasn't alone. His smile grew wider as Richie yanked his hands away. "Did I interrupt your morning rituals?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

A blush fired Richie's pale skin. "I...uh..."

"Chill, Richie. I'm not here to judge you. Get dressed. I have a lot to teach you. Get dressed and meet me outside."

Richie was still flushed when he emerged from the bedroom dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Methos had filled the closet with enough scruffy clothes to last him a bit, at least. Kronos was right; the boy wasn't his type. Too puppyish in his movements and his eagerness to please. There would be nothing to break once he wanted to partake of the boy.

His thoughts startled him. He shook his head. Three thousand years of civilization and he still couldn't separate the core of his bloodthirstiness. A part of him, Adam...Benjamin...whatever he wanted to call himself, had wanted to help...to cure...to solve the problems around him. But that was dwarfed by what had surfaced when he'd opened his eyes and seen Kronos with a gun. Saving him. After all they'd been through.   
It hadn't taken much more than Jilly's murder to sway him back to Kronos' ways.

He rubbed his throat where Kronos had bitten him last month. It had been hard enough that the blood had run down his neck and shoulders to drip on the floor at their feet. And the only thing that had made him pass out was how hard he came with the pain.

Just like old times.

Richie's cough brought him back. Methos stared at him and Richie looked away first, probably embarrassed at having interrupted the daydream. So. The challenge lay in building Richie up enough so that his eventual surrender would mean more to Richie. He could have forced Richie over the table and fucked him without a complaint, but he didn't want that. He didn't need it. He didn't crave it.

Kronos was outside the warehouse. Richie jerked around, but Methos put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Relax, my friend. Kronos is my brother," he said. Mine, not ours. Richie would have to earn that privilege, and Methos hoped it wouldn't break the boy too much.

Kronos came into the main area and nodded to Methos, who nodded back. He waited until Kronos crossed to his own area and closed the door behind him before relaxing. "What's up with the two of you?" Richie asked, sitting down at the table. Methos noticed the boy expected him to prepare breakfast. He hoped it was an honest mistake. It would be the first thing he would change. First, though, he had to cement Richie closer to him.

Methos had seen lions feeding on carcasses that left fewer scraps than the boy did. He played with his own pancake as Richie went to the fridge to get the second carton of milk. "You'd think you were still a growing boy," he said dryly.

Richie looked up, as if suddenly embarrassed. "Sorry, man...something you pick up. Eat what you can. You never know when the next meal is going to come."

"I'd say in another three hours. Unless we can't get to a restaurant during lunchtime. Then we'll have to wait for dinner. Grab your jacket and let's go."

"Go where?"

"Oh...around."

Kronos had a minor insurance racket he ran to keep himself busy. Normally Methos accompanied him just as backup...storekeepers were no longer ignorant peasants who managed to scrape up barely enough to keep their heads over the rest of the human folk. Now they had their own weapons and quick dials to Paris' finest. He usually kept to the background and looked menacing in his leathers, and the store clerks and owners handed over what was due. Today, though, they were going to branch out.

"Where are we going?" Richie asked beside him. He glanced to Methos and deliberately tried to imitate the slight swagger Methos had adopted. Methos smiled at that, but with his sunglasses on Richie couldn't really read his face.

"Egg collecting," Methos said. "Nothing too challenging."

"What...exactly do you do?" Richie asked, quietly.

"I'm in the world domination business," Methos said.

Richie only laughed, and Methos smiled along with him. He'd let Richie think he was joking for the next little bit, at least. The boy would soon discover they were slightly more than two bit hoods, but Richie had had enough major shocks. He'd hold Richie's hand through their plans...gradually introduce the boy to Kronos' madness. It was an insanity they now shared. He felt a twinge of loss for Caspian and Silas...well...Silas at least. He honestly missed the big bear. He admired people too stupid to be anything less than pure. Caspian was a dangerous snake, and other than regret at the fact that the psycho's death broke up the four of them, Methos felt no loss at all.

Richie was staring at him again. Methos stared back, and Richie went back to staring at his boots.

He took Richie to a bakery Kronos had visited many times before. The owner was a small Italian man who barely spoke French and whose English was hardly understandable. Not that many words were needed. Methos leaned against the glass display, pressing his hip against it, and idly traced a pattern just under the sign that asked him in English, French and Italian not to touch the glass. "I'll have a bearclaw," he finally decided. "What do you want, Richie? The pastries are quite good, for a non-Parisian baker."

Richie hung back, obviously not knowing if he was reading the situation properly. The little man behind the display case stared at Methos with hatred, but there was almost enough fear and resignation to mask it. Methos deliberately ignored the man. "Cherry turnover," he finally decided, briefly wondering if Richie still had his virginity. Well, the only one he cared about, at least. Probably not, he decided. He'd looked too knowingly at Methos the first couple of times he'd interrupted the boy bathing or sleeping.

The Italian brought out the two sweets on waxed paper, and Methos took the time to enjoy the icing on it. After such a large breakfast he didn't think Richie would be interested in the turnover, but Richie surprised him by eating the whole thing. They threw out their papers, and Richie opened and closed his mouth, clearly debating whether he should tell Methos they hadn't paid for anything yet.

Methos snapped his fingers theatrically and turned back to the little man. "How silly of me. The money, now," Methos said. The last three words had dropped all the playfulness he had been feeling all morning. He took off his glasses and stored them at the neck of his shirt. He held out his hand, letting one finger beckon the man. No threats--none were needed. The man went into the cash-drawer and pulled out the white envelope. Methos didn't bother counting it. He threw it at Richie and turned to go. Richie caught it, fumbling for a moment, and then lifted the flap. When he saw the cash he whistled. "Holy shit!" he breathed.

Methos glared at him for his momentary loss of composure in front of one of their clients. Richie flushed for the third time and looked down, suitably chastised. They went to three more shops that morning, and by the time lunch came around the inner pocket of Richie's denim jacket was full of the thick envelopes. "Is this what you guys do?" Richie asked.

The boy's cheeks were glowing, but it was from the thrill of the game rather than embarrassment. His eyes were brighter, too. He didn't have to imitate Methos' swagger any more; Richie had found his own and was using it. There was nothing like a sweaty wad of money to replace all self-doubts, Methos guessed. He smiled at Richie's innocence.

"Not entirely. We've grown somewhat. This is more like walking-around money. Come. We've got to get you a proper jacket."

A month later, Richie swaggered into the warehouse. He, probably without even noticing it, had copied both of them from their leather jackets to their combat boots. Other than glancing up to where Methos stood counting money with Kronos, Richie ignored him. The anger that spiked in Methos was gone as quickly as it came, but he decided that it was time to visit Richie in the middle of the night and begin his other lessons.

The first set of lessons had progressed quite well. Methos was pleasantly surprised at the boy. He had taken to extortion naturally, and slowly worked his way into the arms dealing and industrial secret trading with little effort. Richie still was too trusting, though. Methos couldn't stop the nagging feeling that deep under the hunger for money lurked an honest boy. He touched the little capsules in his pocket. That would change after tonight.

"At least you hope, brother. There's something not right about that boy," Kronos said, reading his thoughts.

It didn't surprise him; he hadn't been subtle about staring at Richie's door. "What makes you say that, brother?" Methos asked, pulling his attention back to Kronos.

"I don't think you remember your old techniques. Not that they were any good either," Kronos said, and rubbed his lower belly. Methos watched him move, half amused, wondering if Kronos was aware of touching the old knife wound.

"Each horse is different, Kronos, but they all submit to the same bit."

"You're sure about that, are you, brother?" Kronos asked. He was smiling at him. Methos' back knotted. He took a step towards Kronos, fists balled, but Kronos dismissed him as a threat. "It's my turn, Methos, and I don't want you if all you're thinking about is that boy. Go. Deal with him. Just remember that we are brothers in everything," Kronos said, and began stacking the bills in an unmarked bag.

Ignoring Kronos' words, Methos grabbed his chin and kissed him, hard enough so their teeth struck each other. He grabbed Kronos by the balls, squeezing hard enough to hurt, and parted his lips passively, bending his knees slightly so their groins lined up. "You'd take me regardless of who I was thinking about, if you wanted me, brother. But if you think that child would ever replace you in my esteem, you don't know me at all."

Kronos kissed him, or rather gave his mouth a tongue-lashing, and then let him go.

They had a major shipment coming in from Russia and going to the Balkans, and it kept Kronos and Methos up for most of the evening. Kronos glanced at him as they sealed the last case. "Have a good night, brother," he said, glancing to Methos' quarters. The boy had slept there since the beginning and Methos had taken the couch.

No longer. Methos ran a hand down Kronos' back, and then cupped his ass. "Thank you."

Kronos caught his hand, squeezing the wrist hard enough to almost break it, and then let him go.

Richie woke up to Methos pushing the door open. He groped for the light, rubbing his eyes with his other hand. "Methos?" he finally asked.

Methos didn't say anything. He moved to the side of the bed and unbuckled his belt. Richie jerked away, still not getting out of the bed. Methos continued to undo his jeans as if Richie hadn't moved.

"Methos, what the hell are you doing? Methos, I...I am not sucking your cock. Thanks for everything you've done, but no thanks, you know?"

Methos sighed, but inwardly was pleased. It would mean nothing to Richie if he gave up to Methos too quickly. He grabbed Richie's ankle from the foot of the bed and yanked Richie back to him. Richie kicked out, fighting to get away, but Methos backhanded him across the cheek. The tension in his arm was perfect--Richie fell against the bed. The boy looked up, shocked at the violence, but didn't move.

Methos moved over him, kneeling over his chest. Richie's eyes were wide, but he didn't say anything as Methos wrapped his fingers around Richie's hair and pulled his head up. "Now, Richie. You don't want to try me."

"Why?" Richie asked, still resisting the hand. The boy's neck was like a bull's as he tried to pull free, but Methos increased the pressure on the roots of the blond curls. Richie's blue eyes filled with pain tears as he tried to ignore the agony.

For a moment, Methos feared he would scalp the boy. The blood would stain the bedding, and it wasn't the lesson he wanted Richie to learn so early. If he kept the boy there would be time enough to bleed him, but that was an acquired taste. The boy slacked off, submitting to Methos' hand guiding him to his groin. Richie's eyes squeezed shut, and Methos stopped for a moment.

"Look at me," he ordered. "This above all else, look at me."

Richie opened his eyes defiantly. The sudden spark of independence after giving up surprised Methos. "Is this where you tell me this is going to hurt me more than you? Well, fuck you. I've heard that one before," Richie snapped.

Methos shook his head. "I would never say that to you, Richard. You are going to suck my cock, and you are going to convince me that is the only thing you want to do, or I will hurt you. You're a smart boy, relatively speaking. I shouldn't have to go into detail. But be assured I will make you vomit out your intestinal tract if you dare try anything stupid with me," Methos said, but then ruffled Richie's hair with rough near-affection. "Or I could make it good for you, too. You decide."

Richie stared at him, hard. Methos stared back, keeping his face perfectly expressionless. He could see the boy waver...and then come to a decision. Methos smiled; submission didn't short out the spark of anger in Richie's eyes. Nor did the set of the boy's mouth change even after Richie stretched his neck so he could take Methos in his mouth.

Methos had been fairly soft. He didn't see violence as anything but a means to an end, unlike Kronos. He shifted back to make it easier for Richie to take him deeper in his mouth. Richie followed him, careful not to let his cock escape, and Methos backed up enough so that Richie could crouch in front of him. The boy wasn't practised, but he was at least willing. Methos sat back on his haunches and pulled Richie's head to his body. With Kronos, Methos let the man decide when and how he'd be taken, but this was different. He let the boy work up and down over Methos' cock a couple times so he knew Richie could take his entire length. The boy's scalp was sweaty as Methos gripped Richie's hair.

Methos took over the cadence, keeping Richie's mouth against his body longer than necessary. He liked feeling Richie's breath against the short curly hairs of his lower belly, and the tension in Richie's body caused by the humiliating position.

Richie started to move his tongue against the base of his testicles. Methos just laughed. "Very good, Richie. Anything to get it over with," he said. Richie tensed under him, angry to be found out, and Methos went back to fucking Richie's throat.

Richie's quiet choking sounds and muffled curses made Methos even harder. He clenched his ass in time with the strokes, and almost let himself go before remembering this was a lesson. He pushed Richie away, and Richie fought against him, trying to go down on him again. The boy knew what was coming, at least.

"That trick hardly ever works," he whispered. He ran his hands through Richie's hair again, gently moving the hair from Richie's eyes. "But it was a nice try. Turn around."

Richie looked up at him, and despite the boy's attempt to hide the fear Methos realized the kid was new at this. He briefly considered just throwing the boy back and fucking him to break him in and take away the guilt, but realized it wouldn't get him what he wanted. He sighed, running a finger over Richie's temple. "Lie on your belly and part your legs," he said, quietly. "I'll be gentle."

Richie continued to stare at him, and then miraculously turned around and obeyed. He trembled like a starving puppy, but his left leg bent and came up, exposing his testicles, pink and lightly covered with a dusting of blond hair.

Methos lay down between his legs, kissing the individual balls once, and gave him a tongue bath. Richie's breathing became laboured as he tried not to respond to his ministrations. Methos' own body was sweating, so he took off his jacket and pulled off his shirt, but kept the jacket close.

By the end of the bath the poor boy was all but squirming under him. He backed away for a second, and Richie's hips came off the bed to follow him. Methos laughed at that, but kept the sound gentle in case it startled Richie and broke the mood. Next to the little poppers he'd scored almost a week ago there was a tube of Astroglide. He smeared some on his fingers, coating two of them, and forced them both inside the boy.

Richie's hips slammed back against the bed, trying to pull away. Methos held him down, searching for the gland inside him. He caressed it until Richie's small noises of distress became one long, involuntary groan. He finger-fucked the boy until he was panting in small grunting gasps that matched the rhythm of the relentless strokes that were stretching him and working the tense muscles to relax.

Methos pulled out and left him like that for about thirty seconds, watching Richie fight against the urge to rub himself on the covers. Methos smiled, and then forced his cock inside the boy. Richie jerked again, but there was nowhere for him to go. Methos slid his hand between the bed and the boy, and felt how hard the boy's erection was. Oh yes, Richie was enjoying this in spite of himself, as Methos had known he would. Methos grabbed Richie's leg as he fucked. Richie started to move with his thrusts, and buried his face in the blankets as Methos quickened the pace.

Methos pulled free, and Richie moaned in protest. The boy was a rag doll to be rearranged. Methos knelt back down on his haunches, and moved Richie back over him. He took a moment to adjust his cock to re-enter the boy, and was surprised at how eagerly Richie reared up to throw himself back on it. Methos reached into his jacket and took out a capsule. Richie's cock was wet with pre-cum as he took it in his free hand, and just as he was about to cum he crushed the popper under Richie's nose.

The boy jerked under him like he had been electrocuted. It was all Methos could do to let go of the spent casing and Richie's cock and just hold onto the hips of the bucking boy. He came to the desperate thrashing, sure that Kronos could hear the boy's screams. Methos held him until the last spasm passed, and then lowered the boy to the bed. He tossed his jacket into the corner and let the boy curl up next to him asleep.

Methos woke up first, and nudged the boy beside him with his knee. "Hey, you," he said.

Richie blinked awake, and Methos could see the dry specks in the corner of his eyes. He wondered if that was usual or if the boy had woken up in the middle of the night and cried. Richie moved and winced, but the pain must have been a phantom pain, because enough time had passed for him to heal.

Richie stared at him, not knowing for a second what the hell Methos was doing in his bed, but then remembered, going pale. He moved as far away from Methos as possible under the covers. Methos smiled. The boy obviously didn't want Methos to touch him, but after the night they'd had Richie didn't want to be naked in front of him.

"Breakfast. I like my eggs over easy," Methos snapped. He stood up, gloriously naked, and smiled when Richie's eyes couldn't move away from his body. "By the time I'm out of the shower, Richie," he said, conversationally. He rubbed the back of his neck and went into the bathroom.

By the time he came out, the bacon was in the frying pan. Richie looked up, startled, and then glanced down at the half-prepared meal. Methos ignored him and picked up the paper on the table. He skipped through most of it, but stopped long enough in the world section to see that the Russians finally found out one of their warehouses was missing its stockpile. Most of that shipment was on its way to its destination, though. Nothing tied it to them.

Kronos came from his quarters just as breakfast finished cooking. Methos unfolded the paper as he came to the table, and Kronos kissed him, hard. Methos tried to smile as Kronos shoved his tongue deep down his throat, holding Methos' face with his hands the whole while.

"Glad you could join us," Methos said when Kronos finally broke away. Richie stared at them, not knowing what the hell was going on, but Methos didn't clarify. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and went back to his paper. Richie served them the meal, but for the first time only played with the food on his plate.

Kronos found him that afternoon. "He's gone," he said, sitting down on the map Methos had been studying. Methos parted Kronos' legs to locate the camp of South American rebels they were selling to on the infrared printout, but didn't say anything.

"Did you hear me, brother?" Kronos hissed.

"I heard you," Methos snapped.

Kronos' hand played with the indent of his spine on the back of his neck. "Doesn't it bother you, brother? Your little toy ran away. Apparently you weren't that great last night."

"He'll be back," Methos said, brushing the hand off.

"Are you sure, Methos?"

Methos looked up, inches away from Kronos' face. "Positive," he growled. Kronos smiled, then backhanded him. Methos fell sideways, careful to land over Kronos' thighs. Kronos held him down with a hand to the back of his neck. "I think you've pushed me far enough, Methos," Kronos warned.

Methos smiled where he was safe from Kronos seeing it. "It took you long enough, brother," he whispered.

"It's been a long time since I killed you," Kronos said, reflectively, and the hand on Methos' neck tightened. Methos fought against it, not actually wanting to get free, willing to play the game. "Would you like to die?"  
He couldn't control the shudder, and of course Kronos felt it. "You slut, Methos."

Methos kissed Kronos' thigh, but said nothing.

"Hands and knees, Methos. Drop down, now."

Methos did so, still shuddering. The floor was cold to his palms, and the chill worked slowly through his denim to bite at his knees and the length of his shins. Kronos moved behind him, kicking his legs apart. The strain on his muscles burned already, but he didn't move as Kronos took out his boot knife. Methos almost jerked away...getting stabbed was his least favourite way of dying, but his cock was hard against his jeans just thinking about it.

All Kronos did was cut his jeans off, though. The cold blade slid against his skin delicately enough not to even scratch him, but hearing the sound of the knife tearing the jeans made him shiver again. Kronos laughed, and slit down the back of Methos' T-shirt. The cotton fell down his arms and he was left naked, bent over the tattered remains of his clothing. Kronos rubbed the flat of the blade against his bare back, and Methos was afraid the goose bumps would catch on the blade. His head snapped back as the blade moved down the small of his back and delicately rolled over to its edge. Methos tried not to breathe as Kronos ran the thin, cold blade on the sensitive skin between his cheeks. He could feel the skin split, but not enough for the blood to do much more than gather at the line of the cut. It wasn't enough to run, at least.

Methos sucked in his breath as Kronos pressed the point into his ass. He could feel the blade nick the tightly puckered muscle ring, and a single drop of blood slipped down his body before running down his thigh. "You'd enjoy that too much," Kronos hissed, and dropped the knife.

Methos shuddered again. Kronos entered him dry, and the pain was nothing to what he had been anticipating. The friction of dry flesh against dry flesh hurt enough that he couldn't control his tongue. "Kronos, please," he begged.

Kronos only laughed at his lack of control. "Poor baby, does it hurt?" Kronos mocked. He grabbed the power cord that plugged in their adding machine and wrapped it around Methos' neck. Methos hacked as the black cord cut into his neck, and the sudden lack of blood knocked him down to his elbows. If Kronos expected him to answer, he didn't give him enough air to form the words.

His cock throbbed, though. That was all that mattered. Kronos fucked him harder, using the cord like reins to pull him back against his body. He felt the veins bursting in his neck, and his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth as it swelled. He heaved, barely making a sound, and felt his body shut down. Kronos must have felt his body dying, because he quickly gathered up both ends of the cord with one hand and used his other to pump Methos' cock. The three sensations in his ass, cock and throat were too much. Methos came, and one of the last things he felt before he died was the strings of his cum landing against his chest.

He woke up coughing. It took a moment to realize that the boots he stared at belonged to Kronos. In a moment of pure laziness he stretched out at Kronos' feet like a cat, and looked up to see the other man staring at him through slitted eyes. "Just like old times," he said.

Kronos helped him up. His blood felt thick in his veins from being dead so long. "If it isn't broke..." Kronos agreed, and kissed him. Methos responded despite being completely satisfied, and slid his hands under Kronos' shirt.

"Get dressed, brother," Kronos finally said, breaking away.

Methos pressed his hip into Kronos' groin once, playfully, and then went into his quarters to obey his brother's command. It would be the last time until after his turn was over.

Richie returned at nightfall, staring at the immediate area in front of his boots and nothing else. Methos glanced up from his translating long enough to recognize it wasn't a dangerous immortal and went back to his work. Kronos glanced up from the same map Methos had studied all afternoon, but looked away. They had to find a drop site by tomorrow, and with the heavy rain it would be too difficult to fly a helicopter and remain undetected.

"Methos?" Richie finally asked. Methos continued to transcribe, trying to ignore the distraction of Richie's presence. "Methos...I..." Richie tried again.

"Shut up," Methos said. "Never interrupt me when I am working." Richie tried to see what he was doing, but of course it was all Greek to him. Methos kept him standing there for almost an hour before pushing his books away. "Get down on your knees and blow me," he finally said.

Richie must have been daydreaming, because when Methos finally spoke to him the boy jumped. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it grimly and dropped to his knees. It took the boy a moment to undo his jeans, they were still too new, but it didn't take him long to take Methos in his mouth. Methos closed his eyes and leaned against the back of the couch. He didn't touch the boy in any way, but Richie remembered to keep his nose close to Methos' body for an extra couple of heartbeats. He rewarded the boy by touching behind his ear, but that was it.

After the session with Kronos Methos didn't have the energy to get excited over a simple blow-job, but he didn't want to discourage Richie after taking this last huge step. Still, his erection was weak and the results greatly diminished.

"That wasn't too difficult, was it?" Methos finally asked. "Tell me. Was it me or the money that made you come back?"

Richie looked at him, and for a moment let Methos see the very frightened, desperate boy that he had been the first time Methos had walked through the fog to him. "If I said both I'd be lying," he said, honestly.

Methos nodded. "It gets easier, Richie," he said.

Richie exhaled sharply, but said nothing. When Methos went to bed that night, Richie moved over for him.

Methos woke up the next morning and stretched. Richie once again was as far away as he could be from Methos and still be in bed. This time, though, his shoulders were shaking. Methos sighed. He had stripped the boy down to his core the night before. It was now time for some rebuilding in his image.

He moved to the boy, whose entire body stiffened as Methos pressed his chest against Richie's back. "Good morning," he whispered in the boy's ear.

Richie didn't answer. Methos laughed, softly, and gently worked his hands between Richie's thighs. "I interrupted something that first morning...would you like me to resume it?" he asked, and was careful not to let his own cock touch the boy. He didn't want to spook Richie any more than he had to.

Richie's thighs clenched against his hand for only a moment, and then relaxed enough for Methos to reach Richie's morning erection. "Did I hurt you yesterday?" Methos asked, purring in Richie's ear while he rolled the testicles against the palm of his hand. "I didn't mean to. I only want you as a brother, Richie. I want you to trust me enough to give me every part of you. Can you do that? Can I trust *you* that much?" he asked.

Richie didn't answer, but his breathing became very heavy. Methos brought his hand up to his mouth and licked his palm. He did so as loudly as he could, and he saw Richie's neck tense as the boy resisted the urge to turn around to see what the hell Methos was doing.

Methos kissed Richie's earlobe and returned his attentions to Richie's cock, now far harder than just the usual morning hard-on. The saliva on his skin made it easier to glide over Richie. He could feel the slippery pre-cum as he rubbed his thumb roughly against the glans, and smeared that around too.

"Because if I can, Richie," Methos continued, feeling the boy start to shudder against his body. "If I can trust you enough to trust me to know what's best for you, I can call you my brother. And do you know what happens then?" he asked.

Richie shook his head minutely. Sweat started to appear on the boy's forehead, and Methos licked off what he could. "You could have me," Methos whispered. "Would you like that, Richie? Would you like to have me like yesterday or this morning?"

Richie madly shook his head. "Oh, God..." the boy groaned. "Methos...please..."

"'Methos please'...what?" Methos asked, raking his teeth so gently over the tender earlobe. "I could stop if you want. I could leave you alone and you could finish this by yourself," he whispered. He even went so far as to quit moving his hand against Richie's now throbbing erection.

Richie groaned, but his hand latched onto Methos' and continued the masturbation. Methos let Richie guide his hand for a heartbeat and then took over again. "Tell me you want to be my brother, Richie," he said.

"I want...to be your brother," Richie hissed. He began moving his hips against Methos' body, but Methos shifted away so that the boy couldn't tempt him.

"And you want to earn my trust."

"I want to...Christ, Methos...after."

"Now," Methos said, firmly. This time he did stop his hand, and no matter how hard Richie tried to move it against him manually, Methos refused to co-operate. The boy was near tears.

"Methos..." he whispered.

Methos went to pull away. "I want to earn your trust. Please, Methos!" the boy almost howled.

Methos kissed the indentation of the boy's skull where the neck joined the base of the temporal lobe. "How are you going to do that, Richie?" he asked.

"Anything..." Richie whispered. "I'll do anything."

"Smart boy, Richie, you please me. And now, I'll reciprocate," he whispered.

Richie whimpered as Methos lost all gentleness with his caresses. He cupped the testicles with one hand, holding them tight against Richie's body while the other worked him from root to tip. He let the boy thrash against his body, but Richie had no chance, and no desire to break free. "Umh," Richie groaned, and then arched his entire body. Methos held the boy through his orgasm, which was every bit as extreme as the one assisted by the amyl nitrate.

Methos left the boy sleeping in the bed. By the time Richie joined them, it was almost noon.

It took almost three days for Richie's confidence to return, but then Richie was young. Methos had taken the boy out to their private airstrip and let him supervise the loading of the plane. For the first twenty minutes or so he glanced repeatedly at Methos for guidance, but finally went on to do his own thing. After ordering around the half a dozen men Kronos hired for their silence as well as their strong backs, Richie had a set to his shoulders that Methos hadn't seen since fucking him.

The next day during lunch, Methos ordered for the both of them. Richie called the waiter back and ordered something different. Methos watched with amusement as Richie met his eyes and dared him to argue, but Methos only smiled and bowed his head slightly. Richie was back. Only this Richie didn't mind dropping down to his knees if it served a purpose.

Richie didn't seem surprised as Methos snapped his fingers. The boy obediently dropped to his knees and began undoing Methos' jeans. Methos smiled at how whorish the boy had become. He wondered...briefly...whether it was the money or the idea of fucking his rapist that had turned Richie into such an eager cocksucker. Sooner or later Methos supposed he would have let the boy fuck him, but the thought didn't appeal to him all. He belonged to Kronos as much as Kronos belonged to him, and a third man upset that. Plus now Kronos had started to stare at the boy when the three of them were together.

He felt the warning, but Richie didn't stop bobbing his head up and down. Kronos came into the warehouse, and Methos pushed Richie away without finishing the job. Richie stared up from his knees, obviously shocked at being so dismissed, but Methos didn't say anything to him. He did up his jeans on the way.

Kronos wasn't watching him, though. He was looking at Richie, still on his knees looking confused. "He's come a long way, brother. I didn't think you had it in you," Kronos said instead of a greeting.

Methos put his arm around Kronos. This close to him, Methos could smell the leather and musk of Kronos, and his failing erection found new life. "He has promise," he said, as blasé as he could. "Do you want him?"

Kronos glanced at him. "Are you sure? I thought you more possessive than that."

Methos only smiled, and slid his hand down Kronos' jacket and into his back pocket. "I could order you to fuck him," Methos whispered. Kronos' muscles against his hand tightened, apparently just at the thought. "Of course I'll have to do a sweep for knives, just in case."

Kronos' body stiffened at that. "Any restrictions?" Kronos asked, but was staring at the boy hungrily.

"Only one."

Kronos turned to him, eyes narrowed. "I thought so. What is it?" he asked.

"I get to watch," Methos purred against his ear, and bit down on the lobe sharply, licking away the drop of blood.

Kronos smiled.

Richie sat back over his heels as the two approached him. They had been far enough away so that he couldn't follow their conversation, but he would have seen the way they acted, and their smiles. "Richie," Methos said.

Richie glanced up, trying to maintain his air of bravado . The boy almost pulled it off, too. "Yeah?" he demanded.

Methos rested his hand on the boy's head. "Do you trust me?" he asked.

Richie glanced over to Kronos for less than a second before answering him. "I...do," he whispered.

"Good. I want you to please Kronos tonight. If he hurts you, I want you to show me how well you can take it. I want to see how much you trust me."

Richie looked up, lip quavering for a moment, and then the boy squared his shoulders. He nodded.

Kronos was kinder than Methos thought he should have been. He ripped the boy's clothes off rather than cutting them. He grabbed the boy's hand and twisted it behind his body, straining bone and ligament to its limit "My quarters, boy," he said, pleasantly.

Richie had to move or let his arm be broken. Despite the rough treatment, there was none of the terror on Richie's face that had been there on his first night with Methos. Methos didn't want that spirit crushed again, but he'd given up control of the evening. If Kronos wanted to break Richie to his own hand, there was nothing Methos could-or would--do.

There was a moment's apprehension as Kronos ordered Richie on to his back. Kronos only had a scratchy grey army blanket over his army cot, and Methos knew from experience how uncomfortable it was against bare skin. Kronos braced his knees against the edge of the bed, dragging the boy toward him, and lifted him until his knees were locked over Kronos' shoulders, spine arched up and ass snugged against Kronos' erection. Richie submitted with only a small grunt of protest, although the position left him virtually helpless.

Methos licked his lips as Kronos glanced to him for assistance. Both his hands gripped Richie's thighs. Methos moved up behind him and unbuckled his belt before lowering his jeans past his hips. "Is that all the assistance you are going to lend, brother?" Kronos asked.

"Why, do you need a hand?" Methos asked.

"Two of them, actually."

Methos found himself pressed tightly against Kronos' back, kissing his neck as he guided Kronos' cock into Richie. Richie groaned again, but it was muffled and they both ignored it. He loved the feeling of Kronos working against him, and accepting the limitations of space Methos imposed. Richie might as well not have been in the room--it wasn't about him, never had been. Methos grunted once as Kronos slammed back against him hard enough to knock the wind from his body, but reached around to pull Richie's thighs more tightly around Kronos . Kronos threw himself back, settling hard against Methos, and they both pulled the boy onto Kronos' cock.

Methos bit down on Kronos' ear hard enough to be able to drink the blood that poured out of the bite, and with the sudden pain Kronos screamed and came inside the boy.

It took them a long time to disentangle from each other.

Only then did they look at the boy. He had cum without them noticing , and now gingerly climbed to his feet. He left the silent room, and after a moment they heard the hum from the pipes as Richie started the shower.

Methos touched Kronos' cheek and left to join the boy.

He stowed Richie away in his bed and stayed with him until he could hear Richie's gentle snores, then got out of bed and padded, naked, to Kronos' quarters.

Kronos didn't look surprised to see him. "I told you he wasn't your type, Methos. I only hope you didn't get that attached to him," Kronos said, and turned away from him on the cot.

"No concerns there, brother," Methos said. The moonlight from Kronos' single window lit up a square of Kronos' bed, including the white skin of Kronos' averted face. Methos went around the bed and sat beside him.

It wasn't a question of whether Richie was or was not his type, Methos discovered. It was just that he wasn't needed. He had Kronos, Kronos had him. Everyone else was just a pawn in their struggle. The Watchers had stripped them to their essence, and Methos could almost have thanked them for that.

Kronos looked up at him for the first time, and nodded.

It was decided.


End file.
